


Out of Focus

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [88]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't copy to another site, Drug Abuse, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Insecure Stephen Strange, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Temporary Character Death, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 04:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18296666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: When you meet your soulmate the world bursts into a spectacle of colour, beautiful and filled with life. When your soulmate dies you are plunged back into a world of grey, dull and lonely.In which they never get their fairy tale meeting, can't seem to stop dying, but just might get their happy ending.





	Out of Focus

**Author's Note:**

> There is a fair amount of jumping here, just try to remember all the times our boys heart stop beating in chronological order.
> 
> Does this make up for the short stories I've been posting lately? Read to find out ;)

   Stephen was thirty-two when his world burst into colour for the first time, making him stumble and grip his head with a pained gasp as his mind went into sensory overload. Christine had gripped his arm, whispering frantically and tugging him close even as Stephen was looking back, eyes darting from person to person.

   The crowd was shoving in around them, flocking toward one celebrity or another and from Stephen’s brief glance about he spotted nobody on the floor or expressing their pain out loud like him. He gripped Christine’s arm and pulled himself up, only to stumble again and lean heavily on her, “get me out of here.” He muttered.

   He raised a hand to cover his eyes, nausea twisting his stomach and his heart beating rapidly with the need to get away, to run before he was spotted by whomever had done this to him. Christine didn’t hesitate, forcing there way through the crowds and towards his car with a dogged determination.

   The car ride was brief and filled with Christine’s inquiries, her voice calm but for the underlaying tremor that he couldn’t address in that moment, too busy squeezing his eyes closed, trying and failing to block out the lights and colours that felt like a knife being plunged into his eyes.

    Getting to their room was hardly any easier, but the moment they stepped over the threshold of their hotel room, Stephen booked it to the bathroom, closing and locking the door. He slid to the cold linoleum, back pressed to the door, blinking harshly in the dark room. His breathing was erring on the side of panic and Stephen willfully tried to calm it, eyes darting around, both hungry and helpless as the array of colours came to him, even in the dimness.

   His soulmate. He had touched his soulmate only minutes ago, sending everything that he so carefully crafted, spiralling down. Stephen crushed the palms of his hands over his eyes, yearning for the familiar black and white through which he had seen the world for most of his life.

   He knew the stories, had heard them as bed time tales, and in the small wistful smiles of his parents. Played the childhood games of pretending to see colours. Had, for a brief period, romanticized the idea of one day meeting the one meant for him, the one that was supposed to be his perfect opposite.

   Stephen wasn’t a child anymore.

   He didn’t want or need a soulmate. The only thing that would bring with it was a chaos, an upset to the life he loved so much. He was _happy_ , had a girlfriend that he loved, a job in which he was only becoming more renowned, his life was set, done.

   There was a tentative knock at the door and even that small sound was enough to send a spike of pain race through his skull. Sensory overload, the human brain required anywhere from thirty-seven minutes to eight hours to process the sudden onslaught that was seeing colour for the first time. Listing the facts for his symptoms had always been soothing.

   “Stephen?” Christine’s voice was gentle yet guarded. She already suspected. “Are you alright?”

   Stephen grit his teeth. He was so far from alright he wasn’t….

   A stray thought filtered through the chaos, one that should have come to him much quicker, but he supposes he could blame it on the symptoms ravaging his body, soul meeting symptoms.

   Stephen had gone unnoticed.

   He had stumbled and it surely looked like a typical fall. Christine had helped him and when he looked around there hadn’t been anyone looking, searching for their soulmate or similarly incapacitated with the parade of colours.

   He had got away scot-free…. absolutely nothing had to change if he didn’t want it to.

   Really, it shouldn’t be a surprise. Christine and he were at that gala as extended guests of a patient he saved in a risky surgery, accepting the invitation only to show gratitude for the large donation made to the hospital. They were surrounded by people of influence, the wealthy and the celebrity. Chances were, they didn’t want to risk their lives’ being upset anymore then Stephen did.

   Stephen ignored the pang in his heart, his instincts longing for what it couldn’t even appreciate. All he had to do, was play if off as something different to Christine, convince her he hadn’t met his soulmate but that it was something else.

   “Stephen?” her tone was more concerned now and Stephen had every intention of using that to his advantage.

   The headache would be a dead giveaway, but if he forced himself not to react to all the colours he had been inundated with, he might succeed, he could just say he was sick, felt like throwing up. The sweating and shaking could be a symptom of…poisoning? No, drugging. That was believable. She was supposed to be watching their drinks while he went to the washroom, but he found her talking to someone, attention not on the glasses. He could use that and her subsequent guilt to distract her.

   “Christine,” he let his voice crack a little. “Something’s wrong.”

   “Stephen, open the door,” perfect, that was her nursing voice.

   “One second.” He crawled his way over to the toilet and managed to simulate retching noises, which wasn’t that hard with how he was feeling, before flushing the toilet for added effect.

   The door shuddered in its frame before swinging open and Christine flicked the light on making Stephen slam his eyes closed, almost gasping in pain.

   He felt her presence in front of him, her gentle hands on his skin which he knew was clammy and pale, only half from the soul symptoms and the rest from his panic. He spoke quickly, not allowing her to make any assumptions, “I feel like I’ve been drugged or something…you watched my drink the entire time, right?”

   He could feel her startled silence, feel the moment it morphed into mortification. Perfect.

   Her voice was a little shakier when she spoke, “alright, I need to get you some water, but first I need you to open your eyes for me, have to check your pupils.”

   Stephen hesitated only a moment, bracing himself for the pain before peeling back his lids. It was the last thing he should have been preparing for. His vision was swept up instantly in the beauty and marvel that was Christine’s face. He hadn’t thought about it, too busy trying to hide what had just happed to realize he could _see_ now…. see _colours_.

   She was breathtaking.

   Stephen inhaled sharply, drinking up the sight of her, now longer dulled into greys and black. Almost reached out to touch. He didn’t have the words, not yet anyway to explain the vibrancy that was her hair, the way it seemed to set fire to his soul. He couldn’t describe the way the dark of her eyes was like being sucked into a pit of warm blankets, or the flush of her cheeks being so damn bright that it hurt.

   Christine didn’t seem to notice what was certainly a dumbstruck expression, instead examining his eyes closely before shaking her head, “pupils are dilated, we should get you to a hospital.”

   “No, no hospitals. I should be fine, we can keep an eye on it until it passes.”

   “Stephen-”

   “No hospitals,” he said firmly, the headache already fading away as he found himself gazing at the woman he loved in an entirely new light.

\---

   Tony’s head was spinning. He was never so grateful for the sunglasses he wore on a near constant basis then the moment everything was dialed up to eleven like he’d just been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. He stumbled for a moment, but Rhodey caught him before he could make an ass out of himself in front of the crowd and press.

   Unfortunately, the moment he straightened up, Tony gasped as _colour_ filled his eyes. He swore he could see the grey filling itself in as he stared ahead blankly, ignoring Rhodey’s raised eyebrow. Then all of three seconds later, while he was standing there in shock, a thought, equal parts panicked and excited came to him; _where are they_?

   His head swivelled, trying to spot anyone affected out of nowhere but he couldn’t see around the bodies crushed around him and the camera flashes that were downright blinding. That was unacceptable and Tony found himself stepping forward, head straining to look around the swell only to feel hands grabbing at him, which he immediately shoved off.

   Rhodey’s voice was in his ear, frantic and a whole lot annoyed, “Tony what the hell is wrong with you? Are you drunk already?”

   He didn’t care, he needed to find them.

   For a second, he thought he spotted someone, a dark suit being led away, hand up around their eyes, smattering of dark hair, tall figure, when he was yanked back hard by one of his security details. He almost snarled at them, but then a lady in a skimpy dress was in front of him and he gave a pained gasp because that damn dress was so bright, it felt like having a hot iron pressed to his eyes, despite the sunglasses.

   This time when Pepper’s voice came to him, he didn’t hesitate, “get me out of here.”

   He couldn’t have the press see him like this and the pain was reaching an unbearable crescendo. Tony was led away quickly, the calls of the press and bodies growing distant until there was the familiar opening and closing of doors and he was directed into the back of his car.

   He didn’t dare open his eyes, hunching in on himself even as his natural curiosity begged him to open them, to finally see those mythical colours. He felt hands on his arms, steadying him, Pepper and Rhodey saying something.

   Then in that abrupt way she had, her tone going a bit harsh, Pepper commanded his attention, “Tony, talk. Hospital, private or home?”

   The words really were meaningless. He didn’t know which one was the right answer but he knew she would, so all he said as his stomach rolled with nausea was, “soulmate,” with a pained gasp.

   There was silence for a solid three minutes until he heard Rhodey, with his usual eloquence sum up the situation perfectly, “shit.”

   There was tapping, likely at the partition then Pepper was shooting out commands, “take us home now, Rhodey grab the emergency glasses from the second compartment.” There was tapping Tony figured was her phone. “Hi, yeah I know. I need a media blackout on the Hawthorn Gala. Yes, as of a couple minutes ago. No images released without permission, thank you. Angela, yes its me. I’m going to need you to get the guest registry for the Hawthorn Gala, soon as possible….I don’t fucking care, bribe them if you have to.”

   A hand landed on his shoulder, “Tony, keep your eyes closed, I’ve got the glasses.”

   He didn’t bother with a sarcastic remark, to busy trying not to pass out as he nodded weakly. A moment later there was fumbling as new glasses were shoved on to his face. There was some adjusting then Rhodey took a deep breath, squeezing his shoulder, “go on.”

   Tony opened his eyes.

   The glasses were specially designed to dull your eyesight at the onset of the soulmate symptoms, even keeping some colours grey and black as your mind slowly adjusted. They were expensive and still in the prototype stage and Tony immediately decided he was going to buy the whole damn company.

   It still hurt, impossible not too, but he was able to take in the small interior of their car with enough ease to make him relax, even with the chill going through his body. The first thing he saw, however, was Pepper, watching him and speaking on the phone.

   He couldn’t help the words that slipped out, “damn Pep, I don’ know what colour that is but it’s like your personality incarnate,” he said, referring to her hair.

   She narrowed her eyes, but otherwise ignored him.

   Tony turned his attention to Rhodey, who simply raised an eyebrow and Tony offered a weak smile, “oh don’t worry honey bear, you’re as beautiful as ever.”

   His friend just crossed his arms, “you are going to be insufferable for the next few days, aren’t you?”

   Tony didn’t bother answering, instead finding himself captivated by the scenes flashing by him outside the window. The flashes of colour, the sudden _life_ he could see with each passing building, person, tree, it was all…mesmerizing.

   It was almost enough to make him forget the fact that he was currently speeding away from his soulmate, the one who made this possible, the one he had been waiting for since he was a young child. Almost.

   It felt wrong.

   Typically, when soulmates touched and colour filled their vision, the first thing they saw was each other, their other half, the one the universe believed belonged together. He had heard the stories and later the research, the fact that the first meeting had a way of enhancing their experience, their affection for each other. It seemed like just his luck that he wouldn’t get his fairy tale meeting, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get his happy ending, finally.

   He glanced back at Pepper, who was still speaking frantically into the phone, a determined glint in her eye and he smiled. It would just be a matter of time.

\---

   Morning came to Stephen with a sense of awe and dread.

   A horrible mix to wake up to before your first cup of coffee.

   Christine had dragged him to the bed and had kept watch over him half the night, forcing water and Ibuprofen down his throat at regular intervals, until she passed out from her own exhaustion around one in the morning.

   The symptoms were gone, thankfully. The headache was but a distant throb, his fever seemingly broke hours earlier, and the tremors were non-existent. With practiced ease, Stephen rolled over and found himself staring at Christine’s sleeping form with wonder. She was beautiful, she was always beautiful, but now seeing her in colour, was…extraordinary. She was so filled with…life.

   You heard people try to describe colours all your life, but he realized now, it was impossible to explain with words what he now saw every where. It was…well it was like the life-blood of the world.

   Christine shifted and slowly her eyes opened. Stephen stared, transfixed by the warmth there, drawing him in, even with the concerned expression, “Stephen?” she murmured. “Are you feeling ok?”

   He almost said fine, almost said he’d never been better before remembering that would be suspicious. Drugs, especially the party sort could be flushed out within a short period, but not without some small residual effects…soulmate symptoms, however, miraculously disappeared.

   “Just feel a bit…foggy but I think its pretty much completely gone.”

   Already she was coming to alertness, quick as ever in the mornings as her eyes ran over him, a small furrow between her brows, “Stephen…are you sure-”

   “Christine,” he cut her off. She still suspected and although he hated the idea of lying, it would be better to just address it and move on. “I know what you’re thinking. If I had met my soulmate, I would have told you. Just like we always discussed.”

   He saw the way she relaxed instantly, and he only felt slightly guilty. It would all be worth it in the end regardless, even if he told the truth there was no way he would leave her, he didn’t need or want someone who would complain about his hours at the hospital, who hated feeling alone, who wouldn’t’ understand the sacrifices that needed to be made for him to achieve what he wanted for his surgical career.

   Christine was a nurse, understood in the most important ways how essential the work was. She never complained about their hectic schedules, even when they saw each other only four times a week. She was endlessly supportive about his career and he was continually blown away that the Universe hadn’t already matched them.

   “We need a shower,” he declared, realizing he was still in his suit and his difficult night had left him feeling disgusting. Christine didn’t seem much better, she had at least changed but she had her makeup on and obviously felt as shitty as him.

   She let out a small groan, slamming her head against the pillows like she wished she could be sucked back into unconsciousness, “you go get started, I’ll join you a minute.”

   He smirked lightly, rolling out of the bed and trying not to let his gaze catch on the brighter colours in the room as he made his way to the bathroom. As he stripped off his suit, admiring the dark colour, his mind drifted for the first time that morning to his soulmate.

   He wondered where they were, what they were thinking, if they were looking for him. A pang went through his heart, making him lean heavily against the tiles of the shower for a moment, overwhelmed by the strange feeling.

   Inexplicably, tears stung his eyes, something deep inside him aching. Stephen had never heard of symptoms like these, and he had treated plenty of newly awakened individuals in his residency days. Trying to dispel it, he cranked the shower on, turning it just on the right side of scalding, watching in fascination as his skin seemed to blush.

   It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. Whoever his soulmate was, would certainly be better off without him. The people at that gala were either rich or famous and the last thing they would want was a surgeon and Stephen would be damned if he ever let himself become some trophy husband that stands there by their side looking pretty.

   “Stephen, seriously cool it down or you’re showering alone!”

   He looked over at the sound of Christine’s unamused voice and as he took in her bare skin, soaked in the colours he had been denied so long…the ache just sort of faded away.

\---

   Tony had hardly slept.

   He had been anxious and impatient and generally doing everything he could to be a nuisance to everyone around him while he waited with bated breath for somebody to walk through the damn door with good news.

   He had only agreed to cut it out once Rhodey dropped the SoulColoursTM Starter Kit on his bed with an annoyed groan. For a moment Tony had just stared at it, then his mind caught up, realizing he had forgotten all about it. Just like that, a switch flipped in his brain and it was clamouring for knowledge that he readily gave it.

   It was six am by the time he got through it, wandering around his hotel room and announcing the colours he could now identify. It was fascinating as it was tedious, and in the end, Tony found himself laying on his bed, idly wondering what colours would make up his soulmate. What colour were their eyes? Their skin? Their hair? Their cheeks when he made them blush?”

   The door open and Tony sat up quickly, eyes immediately catching on Pepper’s _orange_ hair. He decided he liked that colour, “well?”

   Pepper sighed, rubbing at her eyes, clearly exhausted as she wandered over to the chairs in front of the fireplace and sat heavily, “come sit.”

   Tony hated being told what to do but figured he could make an exception this once, as he took the seat across from her, narrowing his eyes at her pained expression, “I’m seeing bad news and I really don’t want to hear it.”

   “Then I guess I should just say nothing.”

   He glared.

   She rolled her eyes.

   She opened the small _brown_ folder in her lap, staring down at the sheets there, “I got the guest list.”

   “And why is that bad news?”

   “Its only a partial list Tony. The event had the dedicated guest list, three quarters of which are already matched, but every guest was allowed to bring two extras. They didn’t need to register so long as they had the passes.”

   Tony stared at her blankly, heart thumping widely, “excuse me?”

   Pepper shrugged helplessly, “there’s nothing-”

   “ _Bullshit_ ,” Tony snapped. “Cameras, notice boards, _something_.”

   She grimaced, sliding out some papers and standing for a moment to place it on his lap before retaking her seat. Tony stared down incredulously at the grainy black and white images, the sea of people he was surrounded by and the very distinct fact that you could barely make out a single feature, let alone a person.

   Tony’s breath was coming faster, like when he drank just a little too much and it felt like the walls were closing in on him. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. His soulmate was supposed to just be there. They were supposed to see each other, see colours, Tony would make some sarcastic remark about their eyes or their hair and whisk them away on a spontaneous fucking date and finally, _finally_ not be alone anymore.

   “No one,” he cut off, swallowing thickly. “No one came forward?”

   He could practically sense her pity from there, “I’m sorry Tony, no.”

   The image in his hand crumpled in his fist, he stood, pacing away from her, finding himself at the window, staring down at the streets, still dead. It was beautiful, of course it was, but what was the fucking point?

   “If you wanted, we could try protocol 13? We’d just have to be careful-”

   Tony jaw clenched, “protocol 13 isn’t an option and you know it. It was just there…it doesn’t matter, it wouldn’t work. It was never supposed to come to that.”

   Protocol 13 had been the musings of a desperate young man, but now Tony was only one of those things. It wasn’t unheard of for the rich and the famous, on the extremely rare occasions they were unable to make contact with their soulmates, to put out an announcement for people to come forth. It never ended well.

   “I’m sorry-”

   “Stop saying you’re sorry,” he interrupted again. “Reschedule our flight for tomorrow, you should get some rest and I need a drink.”

\---

   It was surprisingly easy to move on.

   Stephen knows that might mean there was something wrong with him. But as months passed since that night, he found himself getting lost in his work, learning and getting use to the constant attack of colour, and rarely being drawn back to that night.

   It wasn’t fair of him when he found himself watching the news in the week that followed, picking up gossip magazines, and perking up at the mention of celebrity news, waiting for a sign that someone was looking…looking for him. It wasn’t fair when the silence that followed left him feeling hollow and let down, as though he wasn’t the one to run away first.

   He chose to take it as confirmation. Confirmation that they didn’t want a soulmate as much as him. It wasn’t unrealistic, he had heard that the younger generation was becoming disillusioned about the whole thing and it was slowly infecting older populations.

   People didn’t respond well to be told what they could and could not do. The idea that someone was chosen for them, that the Universe got to make such an important choice without their input was sure to get some pushback.

   He had even heard a new term floating around recently, _platonic soulmates_. A friendship forged in the exploration and gifts of colour, the belief that they could choose, that they were not destined to be romantically attached. It was a lovely concept, but so far Stephen hadn’t heard of a single successful case. No, running had been his only option.

   And as his career took off, his superiors noticing his skill, patients contacting _him_ for risky specialized surgeries, he realized he didn’t regret it. Even when him and Christine took a wrong turn and they found themselves more friends then lovers, it still _felt_ like the right choice.

   At least that was what he believed until one day, he was sitting in his office, memorizing the facts behind his latest and most ambitious case and everything just sort of…flickered.

   Blacks, greys, and whites, flashed through his vision as he looked up with a gasp, hand clutching at his heart instinctively, his mind screaming in protest. He was thankful he was in his office because there was no way to hide this, as he slipped to the floor, hands moving to grip his head, eyes closed in an attempt to ward off the melting colours, “nonono,” he muttered. “Stop, you fucker, don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare!”

   They, whoever they were, was dying.

   Stephen felt like he had been punched in the gut, tears streaming from beneath closed eyelids, head spinning as his brain struggled to readjust to this new input. When Stephen opened his eyes with a desperate cry, it was to see… _colour._

   Right there on the floor behind his desk, he slumped against the cool hardwood, exhausted and crying. It felt like he had just run a race, heart beating wildly in his chest, mind reeling with disbelief.

   It took an embarrassingly long time to pull himself up and off the floor, to beg sick and go home. All the while he was wondering, _what the hell just happened?_ Trying and failing to think of anything else.

   Stephen logged the date and time in a small black journal, not even fully aware of what he was doing, and told himself it was alright, it wouldn’t happen again.

\---

   Tony knew now was not the time to be thinking about his soulmate…but the reality was that they were never far from his mind, no matter how much he wished they were. It had been four years after all.

   Four years of wondering, of hoping… of accepting? He doubted Pepper or Rhodey would agree with that one considering he nearly drank himself to death before being kidnapped in Afghanistan. He might be Ironman now, but it was a strange parody to have only half his heart. Still, just like in that dingy cave, when his heart stopped beating for the first time, he found his mind filled with _them_.

   As he prepared the boosters and heaved the rocket up toward the blackhole like thing in the sky, he couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted at the prospect of dying, of leaving his soulmate out there somewhere, swimming in the dullness of black and white, all because of this one action. He could only hope it would save them too, make him worthy of the person he never knew.

   “Sir, would like me to try Ms. Potts?”

   “Might as well,” he didn’t want to die alone. Pepper, despite knowing she wasn’t his in that way, had never faltered. She was the only woman or man he’d been with since getting his colours that he didn’t feel guilty about. He like to think his soulmate would want him to be happy, any way possible.

   Yet.

   As the cold seeped into his lungs, the oxygen drifting off, he took in the most magnificent, terrible, colourful sight. The brilliance of the stars, being blotted out only by the Chituri army but still captivating. As his eyes began to close, a single stray thought filtered through _…. I wish you could see this_.

\---

   Stephen was staring dumbfounded up at the tiny ancient screen in the waiting room, as around him doctors and patients shouted, blood and chaos surrounding the usually pristine air of his hospital. He watched as Ironman, gripping a missile on his back, hurtled into a portal, heart in his throat for some reason, unable to look away.

   That was when he felt it.

   It was like he could feel his heartbeat slow, the colours on the screen flickering to black and grey. His legs went weak, but he didn’t fall, not this time. He turned to look at the patients, shouting for help, the stark red that had been covering them dulling into a horrible dark grey. Stephen knew he was crying, even as he wiped at them ineffectually, realizing that his soulmate had just died for the second time, four years later, and that he knew…with a bone deep certainty who it was.

   He reached out to the nearest patient, a young woman, crying hysterically and bleeding from her forearm, a really bad sign. With a terrible numbness, he got to work, he, like the man who had just died for the world, had a job to do.

   Colours came back screaming not five minutes later.

   Stephen did collapse then.

   Gasping for breath, crying from a joy that was both painful as it was good.

   He couldn’t stop shaking.

   He was glad he had slipped into his office as he stared at the screen with a still image of Tony Stark, his soulmate. The warmth of those brown eyes, the sweep of dark hair, the tan skinned, the smirking expression.

   Of course, the Universe would play such a cruel fucking joke on him as to match him with the Merchant of Death and Ironman.

\---

   Tony supposed it was only right that when everything was going to hell, the Universe would add one more thing on top of it. He was seated at one of his worktables, studiously examining the new complicated Mark 47, and trying desperately to ignore the large pack of papers containing details for recent revisions in the Accords.

   It was frustrating, trying to do the work that soothed him while his body still groaned in protest, despite it being months since Cap and Barnes had beat the shit out of him. His pride wasn’t as bruised as his heart, however, nights filled to bursting with images of his parents’ murders. It was not easily unseen, to know that someone who had once been a good friend, an ally, also harboured the secret of his parents last moments.

   He didn’t think life could get much worse. Between that and the constant attacks of guilt while he guided Rhodey through his therapy sessions, no matter what the man said, not to mention the still shaky ground he and Pepper stood on.

   He’d been wrong. Because of course things could always get worse.

   It was late and Tony had just begun contemplating going upstairs and drinking enough to pass out without nightmares when it happened. He had been staring down at the colourful hologram and frowned when it seemed to…flicker.

   For a split second he thought it was the program, another bug to fix. Then he looked up, taking in the room, bleeding to greys, whites, and blacks, and he collapsed.

   He crumpled in an instant to the floor, limbs shaking, arms trying to hold himself together as he stared blankly in front of him, unable to close his eyes. In a distant, detached kind of way, he knew he was crying, could feel the painful thumping of his heart.

   But the only thing he could hear was the mantra in his head; _please, please, please. Don’t, don’t do this to me. Not you, not you too, don’t leave me, don’t leave me alone. Please, please, PLEASE._

   He didn’t know how long he laid there on the floor, unseeing. He did know, that when sound and feeling began to filter back through him, there were colours. Vibrant and volatile, more beautiful then before, enough to bring a brittle smile to his lips.

   He sat up slowly, realizing Friday had put the workshop into lockdown, as per her coding. An episode, according to his therapist. Some where his soulmate had just died and Tony was having a _fit_ of PTSD, he felt like throwing up.

   With weak limbs and shaking legs, Tony pulled himself up, sitting heavily on the desk chair, unable to close his eyes, needing to see the colours, proof that whatever happened to his soulmate, he was alright now.

   It was wrong, so, so, wrong but Tony felt something like relief in him. Not just that his soulmate was alive, but that he had died briefly. Knowing the colours were because of his soulmate was one thing, actually, physically experiencing the connection after all these years was something else entirely.

   They were _real_ and _alive_.

   “Friday?”

   “Would you like me to contact emergency services?”

   He gave a weak laugh, already hearing the disapproval in her tone, since putting in the patch that wouldn’t allow her to call them without his permission.

   “No, I need you tell me if anyone had a life-threatening accident or experience in the last two hours.”

   “State wide sir or further?”

   “Start with New York and surrounding states.”

   There was a brief pause, then; “medical records are private boss-”

   “I know,” he rubbed his eyes. “Just look for muggings, or break-ins or car crashes or something. Hack a few hospitals if you have to.”

   “Right away boss.”

\---

   Stephen stared at the empty threshold Christine had just disappeared through, angry and in tears as if she had any fucking right to pretend that she knew what she was talking about. He found himself stalking toward the kitchen and swinging open a cupboard with a pained gasp, trembling hands trying and failing to open the little pill bottle.

   With a cry of frustration, he flung it, watching as the bottle smacked hollowly against the wall before scattering pills across the hardwood. He stood there for several minutes until he couldn’t take the constant ache any longer and found himself on his knees, gathering several of them and shoving them in his throat.

   He laid there, on the floor, waiting for euphoria to wash away the pathetic excuse for hands. Christine had the audacity to tell him it could have been worse, that he had died on the operating table after the crash, heart flatlining twice. He preferred to believe some part of him had just known life wasn’t worth living anymore, had taken his future into his own hands. They should have let him die.

   As the drugs kicked in, Stephen found everything becoming a bit hazy, body relaxing as his mind began to wander aimlessly, forever circling around his soulmate. Tony Stark, as fucking if. Stephen hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, couldn’t, but he’d done his research. The man was at the Gala that night, he was also the celebrity the mass of people were surrounding that night and in the chaos it would have been the easiest thing in the world for their hands to brush. The final nail in the coffin had been the date in his little book, the one that coincided with his first flickering of the colours and Tony’s kidnapping in Afghanistan.

   What a joke.

   Matching a surgeon, a man dedicated to saving lives, with the man who owned a company that horrifically ended thousands of them in one fell swoop. Then again, maybe destiny knew what it was doing, because here Stephen was, broken, nothing, useless, and suddenly Tony Stark was a hero.

   Stephen wondered if this was karma for abandoning his soulmate, for running away that first night.

   He hadn’t wanted his soulmate and now the Universe had made it so his soulmate could never want him.

\---

   Tony’s entire world took a sharp turn on an inconspicuous afternoon, not three hours before he was supposed meet Pepper for a date. He hadn’t had a single flicker since that evening when Tony suffered his attack and his soulmate died, and he found nothing even with Friday’s screening. Well that wasn’t quite true, millions of fatal attacks happened everyday and there had been no way to narrow it, much to Tony’s frustration.

   It had killed what small bud of hope he had. He resigned himself to never finding his soulmate and decided it would have to be enough never to see his world go dull again, at least until old age.

   Tony would never be that lucky, because this was so much worse.

   He had been on his way to the compound with Rhodey, walking down the hallway of his tower at a brisk pace in response to the alerts going out to all the Avengers about some disturbance half around the world. There was no real information, far too early, but the Avengers…what was left of them that was…were preparing themselves.

   It had happened suddenly, for a split second the world flickered, making him put a hand out to catch himself as a crack of pain sliced through is skull. He recalled gasping in pain, feeling Rhodey hands trying to steady him. Recalled falling to his knees, tears leaking from his eyes as his back arched with the feeling of fire moving through his limbs.

   He was told afterwards that the most inhuman sounds had torn from his throat, body spasming on the floor, eyes wide open and sightless. What he remembered was much, much different, the way darkness swallowed him up, depositing him in a place that was like his own purgatory.

   He hadn’t known what was happening, it was dark but there were still objects, simple things like one of his suits and grass, around him that faded to black and white before bursting back into colour with a spike of pain over and over again. It was as though he was locked in his mind, like he was watching his soulmate die over and over again but he couldn’t make any sense of it because this just didn’t happen.

   Because they were reaching upper fifties and there is no way someone could live and die so many fucking times. Tony found himself sitting with his arms around his legs, eyes glued to the objects, waiting with an aching heart for the moment it wouldn’t flicker back to colour.

   He didn’t try to make sense of it, didn’t bother trying to scream or yell, focused instead on keeping his breathing steady, gripping his forearm and digging the nails in with the throbbing pain.

   That was…until he heard it.

   There were whispers, too quiet to hear at first but he latched on to any distraction, trying to figure out what it was saying, until quite suddenly, it was clear; hitting him like a punch to the stomach.

_Bargain….Come….Dormammu….Bargain...Bargain….To….Bargain….I’ve…Dormammu…Bargain….Come….I’ve…Bargain…_

   Over and over again. Something purely instinctual and primal told Tony it was the voice of his soulmate, they- no _he_ was speaking to something, he was dying, actually dying, again and again. Tony knew this was supposed to be impossible, that besides the colours and the soulmate symptoms there were no other indicators except when they died.

   Yet this was happening.

   Tony decided he didn’t care, closing his eyes and desperately trying to memorize that voice, Pepper forgotten all at once though he knew he would feel guilty later, as he found himself sinking into the deep baritone, the strained tone, the determination and steel. It was like coming home, like seeing the light after a thousand days in darkness.

   Tony cried.

   He cried when he felt himself being tugged back to consciousness, cried because he’d rather stay in that hell with all the pain, all the uncertainty of his soulmate’s fate, then go back to the waking world where that voice wasn’t, where that feeling of home didn’t exists, where his soulmate might no longer be alive.

   Which was probably why he resisted so much when Rhodey’s voice tried to wake him, sounding incredibly wrong. Still, it had to happen eventually and as he peeled back his eyes, he found himself holding his breath, only to release it on a sob. His best friend was staring down at him with wide scared eyes, clearly taken aback by his reaction.

   Tony saw _colour_.

\---

   Stephen stared at the Eye after Wong had placed it in its protective casing, feeling an odd sense of loss without it around his neck, almost as though it were calling to him. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought, trying to forget the hell he had just been through, the way his body had phantom aches encasing it, the way he felt nauseas when Wong accidentally moved closer to him.

   There was a lot to process and from the concerned glint in Wong’s eyes he probably looked even worse then he felt. Dying over and over tended to have the effect on one’s body and psyche, he just wanted to go to bed and hope there wasn’t violet eyes and a grating voice waiting for him.

   But there was one thing he needed to know, one thing twisting his stomach up with guilt.

   “Wong,” he murmured.

   The man who had become something of a friend raised an eyebrow.

   The words were on the tip of his tongue but for some reason he couldn’t seem to spit them out. Nobody knew about his soulmate, through all these years it was the one thing that remained his and the thought of finally telling someone should have been elating, except it wasn’t.

   So, he rephrased. Wong wasn’t stupid and would know exactly what he was saying, “I was just curious about how a time loop like that…where I died over and over…would affect a soulmate?”

   Wong’s expression remained impassive as always, but his tone was gentle, “they probably would have only had a flicker if that. Chances are, however, they never experienced you dying at all.”

   Relief flowed through him.

   Tony Stark had suffered enough. He wouldn’t wish what he had just experienced on anyone, especially his soulmate, who seemed to finally be settling down happily with Pepper Potts, if the magazines were to be believed. He deserved better then him really.

\---

   Stephen never would have guessed that the thing that would bring him in front of his soulmate so many years later was the Hulk crashing through the Sanctuary’s ceiling with frantic warmings of an upcoming doomsday. But then again, since becoming a sorcerer he really shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore.

   It didn’t make it any easier, however, when Stephen stepped through his portal to stand in front of Tony Stark, in the flesh for the first time. It hurt, was the first realization, to take in his colours, those eyes, that stern expression, the lovely woman holding his hand.

   The second realization came after Tony had stepped into the Sanctuary, listening to Bruce’s tale with a stoicism that was admirable, an attitude that was charming, and a haunted look that was all too familiar. Stephen felt something, each second that past, as though the Universe thought they needed some extra push. He was grateful for the distraction that was the end of the world.

   The third realization came on the ship after the kid and Tony had saved him. Standing toe to toe with him, being inexplicably sucked into the comforting brown eyes, he saw a look there. Suspicion certainly and a whole lot of hope that was so out of place, there was absolutely no way for Tony to know who Stephen was and more importantly it shouldn’t matter, not after all this time.

   Stephen tried to focus on the issue at hand. He’d always been good at disassociating, especially when the fate of the world hung in the balance. He thought he’d been doing well up until the moment he found himself gazing into he Time Stone.

   Cruel, was the first word that came to mind. He learned just how disgusting the Universe was, as he was forced to watch his soulmate die, over and over again, the visions flickering to grey briefly as if needing to drive the point home.

   He could feel the distant symptoms of a panic attack, his breathing speeding up, burning of his eyes, even as he kept searching, watched the great game the Universe must have planned out from the beginning as he finally watched himself give his own life to save Tony.

   All these years and he finally failed. He couldn’t run anymore, had nowhere else to go. He watched as Tony wielded the Gauntlet on his hand, expression burning with determination and grief, and Stephen fell in love.

   As he fell out of the vision and into the steadying hands of his soulmate, Stephen felt his heart break for the first time, stared into swirling warm eyes and wished once again with a desperation not of fear and cowardice but of love and regret; _I wish you weren’t my soulmate._

\---

   Tony was not alright. Not that it mattered as he sat in the dust next to Peter, waiting with little patience for Thanos’ arrival. His eyes were locked onto the distant form of Dr. Strange, who had slipped away the moment their discussion on strategy had come to an end.

   He was crazy, he had to be, because he was sitting there thinking that this wizard was his soulmate. He didn’t have any good explanations, only a gut feeling the moment the man had stepped through that portal with a confidence and intensity that was captivating.

   Instinct had him following without question, then those eyes had looked at him with sarcasm and humor and Tony found a home in the intoxicating mixture of colours there. The man’s voice tickling a memory from years ago that made his stomach twist with anticipation. A voice he had been hearing in his dreams.

   It would be the height of coincidence for them to end up here and there was a whole slew of reasons why now was not the time to investigate the possibility, the end of the world and his engagement at the forefront.

   But Tony had been waiting and hoping no matter how hard he tried to move on and if it really was the end of the world…did he not at least deserve this?

   He found himself standing and heading toward Strange’s lone figure, stomach curling, heart beating rapidly, like his body already knew what his mind suspected. The sorcerer didn’t respond as he stood next to him, looking out at the desolate landscape.

   Tony swallowed thickly, “I have a question to ask you.”

   “Ask away,” the man’s tone was frustratingly neutral.

   “Did you attend a gala about ten years ago now?”

   Strange’s head turned to toward him and Tony met the man’s gaze unflinchingly, staring at those eyes and wishing they had been the first colours he had seen.

   He sighed quietly, “that was a long time ago, my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

   Tony’s jaw clenched, but he wasn’t done, “what happened to your hands?”

   They disappeared into the embrace of the Cloak, which if Tony didn’t know any better, had an air of distaste, Strange, however, went back to looking out into the distance, “car accident.” He murmured.

 _Just say it,_ Tony wanted to beg. _Just tell me you’re my soulmate, just give me this_.

   Instead Strange stepped back, turning towards the others, “Thanos is coming.”

   Tony wished he had begged, demanded answers, been more straightforward, hadn’t taken the silence for an answer, hadn’t been such a coward, as he watched Stephen fade to dust and the world went grey with nothing but a whisper.

\---

   Tony made it home with Nebula in a haze.

   He walked into Pepper’s arms with a numbness that was worse then any alcohol.

   He faced the accusations and volatile anger that was May’s right with passive acceptance.

   He spent three nights straight, locked in his workshop, pouring over information about Stephen Strange.

   His heart ached when he found a blurry background image of Stephen at the Gala with a woman on his arm.

   A brittle smile came to his face as he read the intelligence in Stephen’s medical journal publications.

   He nearly threw up as he read about the damage caused by Stephen’s car accident.

   He had an episode and broke out the alcohol as he read about Stephen’s heart stopping during the surgery.

   He cried without dignity when he finally visited Wong and inquired about the day so long ago when he first heard Stephen’s voice.

   He stared at Pepper blankly when she took at seat for the first time in his workshop and murmured, “he was the one?”

   “I’m sorry,” he said instead of confirming it.

   Pepper shook her head, eyes sad but expression forgiving, he missed the vibrancy of her hair, “don’t apologize, you’ve been waiting so long, and I always told you I’d step back if you found them.”

   Tony swallowed thickly, eyes burning, “he’s gone.”

   “I know,” she gripped his hand across the table. “So, get him back. Get both of them back.”

   He stared at her again for a moment then…slowly he smiled.

\---

   Stephen felt himself pop back to existence with the force of a dizzying kick to the chest, like someone had just restarted his heart. He inhaled sharply, the air burning his lungs as they inflated, before compressing on his exhale, that movement alone was instantly intoxicating. He was so, so tired of dying.

   “Stephen, open your eyes, would you?”

   He followed the command automatically, brain not quite online just yet. But, as he did so, it was to stare into the richest brown he’d ever seen and a soft, devastating smile with pink lips, and a face that was flushed, framed by dark hair and a goatee, Tony Stark, in all his colours.

   “Welcome back,” the man murmured.

   Before Stephen could respond, he felt himself being pulled into a hard hug. For a split-second Stephen thought of resisting, but his warmth was too much to resist and he found himself leaning heavily against the other man as he whispered over and over again, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

   Stephen found himself clinging to the man, tears burning his eyes as responded with his own whispers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

   Tony’s hand settled in his hair, soothing and loving, “I know, I’ve got you.”

   Just like that, something seemed to _click_. It was like they’d been looking through the bottom of a glass, the world out of focus, blurred and it all became sharper, brighter, just like it was always meant to. For the first time, Stephen finally felt like he’d done something _right_.

**Author's Note:**

> My second official soulmate AU story, I'd love to know what you guys thought! Sorry if it dragged a bit, pacing is still not my strong suit lol.


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